


The Language of Flowers

by Thestarlitrose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kinda shippy but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper's day starts like most until she happens across something in the lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Flowers

Her day started like any other day, coffee and a scone from her favorite café, a brisk walk to the hospital and eating breakfast while looking over paperwork. Walking from her office to the lab she notices something very out of place laying on one of the sterile metal counters in the lab. Walking closer to inspect she realizes it is actually a small bunch of flowers haphazardly wrapped together in a crumpled paper towel.

Picking up the small bundle she immediately recognizes a few of the flowers in this strange arrangement. First several daisies, looking very much like it was plucked right out of someone’s garden. The second a beautiful dark pink rose that was well into full blossom. The last part was several pieces of a weedy bunch of leaves that she would have to google later. Deciding she better put the flora into some water she grabs a clean Erlenmeyer flask.

Unwrapping the bundle she nearly misses the black square that falls onto the table. Upon further inspection she realizes this is Sherlock’s magnifying glass telling her exactly who these flowers are from. Molly tucks the trinket into her lab coat and places the flowers on her desk.

After her fourth autopsy of the day and dealing with a particularly nasty case of decay splatter she is able to sit down at her desk for a much deserved lunch of takeout.

Deciding to finally google the weedy plant she sets to work while enjoying her lo mein. Scrolling through the many images she finally comes across the right plant, Wormwood if she’s right.

From there she ends up on a website devoted to the Victorian language of flowers. If it were anyone less clever she would think it too fanciful, because really what kind of man knows the language of flowers? Hell even she didn’t know what most flowers meant.

The dark pink rose that sat proudly in the middle of the bunch is a symbol of _gratitude_ and _thankfulness_.

The daisy, an Oxeye daisy to be exact, meant _patience_. Well she needed patience when dealing with Sherlock she thought wryly.

Finally the wormwood leaves that surrounded the flowers meant _absence_ , and _do not be discouraged._

Molly felt something warm fall onto her arm. Looking down she realized it was a tear, she was crying. “Oh, Sherlock.” She said with a pained whisper.

It had been nearly a month since he jumped off the roof of St. Barts to save his friends and a fortnight since he left the safety of her flat without so much as a goodbye. She supposed, as far as goodbyes go this was entirely him.

____

_Thank you for having patience with me,_

_Do not be discouraged by my absence._

**Author's Note:**

> The language of flowers is pretty neat, I love the idea of secret messages sent by flowers. I used this website http://www.victorianbazaar.com/meanings.html as a guide.  
> I may add on to this, I may not. I rarely write so we'll see if the sherlolly bug bites me in the bum again and makes me write.  
> Thanks for reading =]


End file.
